Bunny who?

Being a Widow

Astrocytoma

12 February 2004

A tale of encouragement

I am seated in a New Jersey appartment, drinking an English beverage called "tea". Somewhere outside, a guidette squawks and a cold wind whips harshly through this barren hinterland. Facing me, perched daintily on her fashionable sofa, her strikingly beautiful face pale but composed, is the woman I know only as "Eurotrash". To all but the most observant, she appears calm, but the heaving of her magnificent bosom betrays just the faintest hint of tension.

"It is over," she admits wearily. "I know it is over, but I cannot bring myself to believe that it is really over."

This is a woman who understands loss, trauma, physical exertion and the betrayal of her dearest friends. To know fully the extent of her ordeal, we must go back in time, to a wintry December morning in 2003.

"I was booked on the 6.30pm flight to London from Newark," she recalls, her startlingly beautiful brown eyes meeting mine for an instant and provoking just the tiniest erection in my trousers.

"I also had the painters in, if you know what I mean, so my lavatory was seeing a fair bit of action on the tampon front. It was early days and I was bleeding like a stuck pig, so we're talking some fairly large jam-logs heading down the tube and out to the sea."

Read the rest of this beautiful, moving story of female empowerment at Eurotrash, the woman who so bravely recounts her horrors. I worship this woman. Her writing makes me laugh, her blog is a daily fixture on my diet. It should be on yours.